Maybe It's Warwick Davis
by Scott Hardie on March 8, 2007
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Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
The Money Pit
Nobody's falling off of staircases or dropping bathtubs through the floor, but this month, our house has had a lot of things go wrong at once. It feels like every day brings another visit from a contractor. Here's our list so far: Mold remediation: A patch of black mold in the primary bathroom meant having the shower tiles stripped out and the infected drywall removed. Go »Amazon Appreciation
I just wanted to take a minute to thank Amazon.com. They've been my primary retailer for over a decade now, not to mention the seller of most prizes in the goo game and Oscars contests on this site. Once they started offering their Prime service ($80/yr gets you free 2-day shipping and discounted overnight shipping), they leveled the playing field against local retailers: No longer did I feel the need to save up a list of several items and buy them all at once to save on shipping. Go »Give Me a Little Credit Here
Today's junk-mail pitch from Visa: "Most credit card companies know you as a number. Sean, we know you by name." Go »Windbag
I don't know what Polaroids he has of whom, but somehow Tom Skilling has elevated himself to some kind of all-important weather-broadcasting god. When I grew up in Chicago, I watched him gradually get a bigger and bigger budget for his animated graphics, and gradually get a larger and larger timeframe to deliver his dull reports. By the time I left town, he had a whole 20 minutes of the hour-long midday newscast for the fucking weather, and boy did he find trivia to fill it: Average dew points across Cook County on this day in 1854, theta-e temperature predictions for every Cubs home game next season, you name it. Go »Powerless
Going without electricity in Florida can be a miserable affair. You sweat non-stop. You sleep fitfully at best, waking up in pools of your own body fluid. Go »
